Out Of Season
by DowagerInTraining
Summary: Violet needs to take a trip to London, and asks Edith to accompany her. A whole month in London, away from her sisters, at Grantham House, with her beloved Grandmother and all the delights of the city to entertain her. Edith can't think of anything better, until she hears that Patrick might be in town too... (OC Patrick Crawley and James Crawley)
1. Chapter 1

**So it's been a while...**  
 **Hello everyone, I'm finally back. It's been, what, nearly two years! I've missed you all, but I have been rather busy. RL summary - my husband and I are in the process of moving to NEW ZEALAND! This has involved dealing with immigration, qualifications being assessed, cats getting vaccinated for rabies, and all manner of faff, and I've just come back from a month in Kiwi Land sorting out my teacher registration. It should be all done and dusted by next month, and hopefully I can get a job to start for January 2018.**  
 **However while I was away, NZ's Netflix had ALL of Downton Abbey uploaded, so I had lots of old friends to keep me company, and it's given me a thirst for writing again. But not my beloved Banna, this time I'm going back to Edith and Violet, my favourite family pair. I've no idea how fast this will be written, but we shall see how it flows.**  
 **Enjoy everyone! And feedback will be most welcome after such a long gap.**

(1911)

"The Dowager Countess of Grantham, your ladyship."

Cora's brows rose sharply, along with her head, as she hastily placed her tapestry to one side.

"Goodness…" she rose to greet the stately old lady, who tottered in, leaning on her cane. "I wasn't expecting you, Mumma, I'm afraid Robert's out… will you stay for tea?"

"Thank you dear," Violet leaned closer to kiss her daughter-in-law's proffered cheek. "That would be most kind."

Cora motioned towards the twin chairs near the fire in the morning room and pulled the bell sash.

"Yes, I was hoping to catch you rather than Robert dear, I'm intending to ask a favour."

"Certainly, if I can help … Carson, might we have some tea please?"

"Of course, your ladyship. Tea for two."

"Tea for three, Carson. And do give us a few minutes."

Violet's interjection was absolutely a surprise. Carson barely twitched an eyebrow, and glided smoothly from the room. Cora did not know what to make of this, essaying a small joke to ease an indefinable tension.

"Are you hiding someone else in your corset, Mumma?"

"No my dear. But I do need to ask for the loan of one of my granddaughters."

"Heavens! Which one, and what on earth for?"

"Well … perhaps I should explain, and then we can make a decision."

Violet, never at a loss for either decorum or words, seemed edgy and uncomfortable. Cora was unsettled, it wasn't often she held any upper hand or even strong cards in a conversation with her mother-in-law.

"Mumma? Is everything quite alright?"

"Well … the truth is, my dear, that no, it is not."

"Well...?

"I'm not well."

Cora was shocked. If she had been told that the rock of Gibraltar was in danger of crumbling she could not have been more stunned, her mother-in-law was never ill, never with so much as an unsightly cold. Violet, seeing her silence, took courage and plunged on with the deeply uneasy conversation which she had to complete.

"I've been having … pains, in my stomach. For some time now. I've been trying various things to fix it, poor Mrs Potter barely has anything left in her repertoire that she dares to cook for me. And so finally I made an appointment, with Doctor Clarkson."

"Heavens, Mumma, why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, I'm saying now!"

Cora allowed a few seconds to pass while Violet regained her colour and dignity. She was obviously frightened, and this often brought out the worst in her.

"So … what did the doctor have to say?"

"Well … we have ruled some things out. But what it leaves is less than pleasant to consider. And so …"

"So …?"

"So I need to see another doctor. In Harley Street."

The small pause allowed the significance of the destination to sink in.

"Oh Mumma…"

"Don't … Don't pity me dear. My façade is all that is holding me together over this, please don't put any more cracks in it."

"What can I do then?"

"Well … I need to go to London. I don't want to discuss the topic with Robert. Even less do I want to discuss the topic with Rosamund… she's had more than one conversation on this topic already."

Rosamund's childless status hung heavy in the air, framed by Cora's three successful pregnancies and beautiful daughters.

"No, I can see why. It would be too distressing for you both."

"But I have no wish to go alone. And so, I was hoping that you might loan me one of your daughters, to accompany me. As a chaperone. A companion, if you will."

"Which one? I know Mary's the oldest, I'm not certain that…"

"No, no, I think I agree with you on that dear. She's an excellent rider and a superb hostess in training, but a companion and nurse, she is not. So I was hoping you might agree to lend me Edith."

"Edith?!"

"Well … don't look so surprised! She's already out, she's been presented, I'm sure she would enjoy a little trip to London. I won't need her constantly, but it would be… more comfortable, to have a family member with me. Someone that I can rely on while this little situation is taken care of."

None of this could be denied. While the suggestion had been startling, Violet had clearly done her thinking thoroughly.

"Do you think she'll want to go?"

"Well, that's what I'm here to find out. Is Edith at home today?"

"She's in the library, with Sybil. Mary's gone riding with Robert."

"Well then … perhaps we should ask her, and see if she approves of the plan. And now I do think it's time for…"

Right on cue, Carson appeared, ushering in Thomas with the tea tray.

"Excellent timing as always Carson. I wonder, could you ask Lady Edith to step in for a few moments please?"

"Certainly milady. Lady Sybil is with her at present…"

Carson never dared to ask direct questions in response to a family member's instructions, but he had this beautifully developed habit of adding little facts which allowed for clarification.

"Sybil has studies to complete, we won't disturb her just yet."

"Very good Milady."

…

"I wonder why they just want you?"

"No doubt we'll find out soon. Now, are you sure you understand that conjugation now?"

"Oh yes, you've been a darling, Madame Lacoste will be so pleased that I managed to finish it. You're so much better at French than me Edith, I do wish you hadn't given it up…"

"I'll come back later and see how you're getting along."

"Don't keep Granny waiting…"

Sybil dimpled her adorable smile up at Edith from her French studies. Edith felt a small pang of jealousy at how pretty Sybil was. Once she came out and started to wear her hair turned up, that elegant neck and those graceful shoulders would come into their own and she would quite outstrip both of her sisters in terms of beauty and grace. Not only that though, but she was so kind, and hard working. It was as though the best of both of her older sisters' facets had been combined into something superior.

Edith hurried toward the library, swiftly but attempting to emulate Sybil's grace.

"Granny! How lovely to see you."

Violet felt for the first time that her little scheme might actually be a good one, in practice as well as theory. Edith had always been the granddaughter she had felt closest to. Mary was clearly Robert's pride and joy, but there was something of her own mother-in-law that lurked in Mary's character, a certain coldness and sharpness born of great intelligence without the benefit of wisdom. Sybil was a darling, but slightly too revolutionary for Violet's taste, always pushing against convention and arguing for the new modern changes. Lurking in her youngest granddaughter's chatter, Violet could always hear the echo of the guillotine.

"Hello dear, do come and sit with us, we're just setting down to a nice cup of tea."

Thomas handed the cup over to Edith, who attempted to look dainty. It wasn't often that she was invited to grown up tea without her sisters. The habit of family tea still hadn't entirely been cast off at Downton, although in another year or two once Sybil was presented and her governess departed, no doubt the habits would change.

"How's Sybil getting along, dear? You are so good and helpful to her with that French work, she was getting in quite a pet about it yesterday."

"Oh it's alright, it was just one set of verb conjugations which she hadn't quite mastered, it threw her grammar off through the entire passage. She's recopying it now."

"Good, good. It is nice to see you girls taking care of each other."

Cora threw a small glance over to Violet, who recognised the straight line.

"Indeed. You are always so helpful and caring Edith. Which brings me to the reason for my visit."

"Oh?"

"Well, I have been having a little talk with your Mumma, and I hope that you'll be willing to help and care for me for a little while. You see, I have to go up to London, to see a doctor."

A cold wash of shock flooded through Edith. Granny, ill? Enough to go to London and see a doctor? Granny was her stalwart, her champion, her sharp tongue was the only thing that could rival Mary's and put her firmly in place when she used Edith for conversation target practice. Violet saw the colour drain from Edith's face.

"Oh don't worry dear, it's not serious. I'm not in any danger. But there is a little matter I need to take care of, and it will involve a tiny little procedure, and I need to do as I'm told and stay still for a while afterwards."

"So … you are going to be alright?"

Violet was touched. But determined not to show it.

"Oh yes dear, quite alright, but it's best to get this sort of thing sorted swiftly before it does any mischief. I intend to be around for a good long while yet. We can't have any of you girls getting married without me here to oversee it!"

It was as close as Violet could get to a joke, and both Cora and Edith smiled accordingly.

"So the thing is dear, I wondered if you would be willing to come with me. To London."

"To take care of you?"

"Yes dear. You see, it would be for several weeks."

Edith's eyes widened. Several weeks in London! She hadn't spent so long there since her own coming out season.

"Will Mumma be coming?"

"No dear, your Mumma has quite enough to do here…"

"It's our busiest time darling, with the flower show, and then the garden party for the hospital needs sorting out, and we're having all sorts of fund raising for the hospital for its fiftieth anniversary, I simply can't get away. And then there's the hunting season in full swing, so Downton will be stuffed with guests…"

"You won't mind missing the hunt will you?"

Mind? Edith couldn't think of anything better. Getting away from Mary's horsey friends, the suitors who traipsed after her on horseback by day and around the drawing room by night, all of them totally oblivious to Edith, who would just as soon cut her own toes off as join the hunt.

"No … I've not really take to it after the first season, riding by side saddle is hard enough without chasing after a pack."

Violet exclaimed softly. "I should think so … in my day a lady waited to be pursued by a pack, not the other way around…"

"So … would you be willing to go darling?"

"Well … certainly! If Granny wants me."

"I most certainly do. My maid will come with us, to take care of all the usual things, but it would be so nice to have some company. Someone to sit with me, talk with me and perhaps read if I'm too tired, or take care of a few little errands here and there. And of course you can have some time to yourself as well, I'm sure there will be some people in town happy to chaperone you to the odd event or two."

"Where are we going to stay? With Aunt Rosamund?"

"Hmmm, I thought we might stay at the Ritz... Or perhaps the Savoy, if they're booked to capacity. Rosamund is away in the South of France, so her house is all shut up."

"We could open Grantham House if you'd like? Mrs Bute will make sure you are comfortable, there would be a few more home comforts than an hotel…"

"Oh! Oh my dear, that's most kind, I think that would be the better option, rather than Edith and I being crammed into a poky little suite."

Edith swallowed a giggle. Only her grandmother, who had after all been a guest at the Winter Palace in Russia, would ever dream of calling the suites at the Ritz pokey. But still, Mumma was right, at least Grantham House was a little more like home.

"…and there was a suggestion that James might be in town with Patrick…"

"Patrick's going to be there?"

"Yes dear, he might well be. Plans were still a little unsettled in James's last letter, but there is the chance they might be in town while James takes care of a few little business matters."

This was getting better by the minute, Edith thought. A month, maybe more, in Grantham House in London, with darling Granny, who wasn't really ill but needed a little fuss and attention. Without Mary, and all of her irritating friends, and with a chance to see her beloved cousin, away from her overpowering and oh-so-elegant and perfect sisters.

"Well then… I shall write to settle the appointment and arrange the details, and be in touch to arrange the final details."

Violet rose, stately and grand. Cora and Edith followed suit.

"Goodbye my dear … you will take care to let Robert know what he should?"

"I shall only give him the details he can bear."

"Good good, that's good. And Edith, dear, do take care and we shall lay some plans soon."

"Goodbye Granny. Would you like me to walk you out?"

"No, no, I can manage, if you'll just ring for the motor…"

Cora escorted Violet into the hall while Edith sat and reached for her leftover cake before tea was cleared away. Perhaps this year was going to be different after all…


	2. Chapter 2

"But why didn't she come and talk to me…"

"Robert! Don't be absurd. This is your mother, and you can barely manage to talk to me about matters concerning my body, even when I've been pregnant with our own daughters."

A hot flush of embarrassment drew Robert's stuttering indignation to an abrupt halt.

"No, of course, you are right. I am sorry, my dear. I do find this sort of thing … difficult to discuss."

"We know that dear. Nobody knows it better than your own mother and wife."

Cora reached out for Robert's hand, a characteristic romantic gesture which Robert had adjusted to over twenty years of marriage, but one which still took him by surprise now and then. But at this point, he was glad of a reassurance beyond words.

His father had died a long time ago, and had been a distance presence in his life at the best of times, but he had grown a lot closer to his mother, especially since the birth of his own daughters. Shepherding them through their adolescence had given Robert a fresh view of how challenging a life the women of his world were facing. And now it seemed that his own Mumma was still facing challenging times, and in an area he could barely stand discuss, let alone do anything to help with.

"But is she going to be alright?"

"Well, there's no denying that she's right to take some action. How worried did you think she would have to be to speak to Doctor Clarkson about such things? But anyway …"

"So, has she made all the arrangements?"

"I believe so. She said she'd be in touch when she's heard back from the doctor in Harley Street. A Doctor Ryder, apparently, he's quite eminent in his field."

"Well, Mumma would only see the best."

Cora hmmm'd her agreement. Robert had taken the news well overall, but he still hadn't broached the second part of the subject.

"So she wants to go up and stay, and take Edith with her?"

"I know, I was quite surprised at first too. But once she explained her reasoning, it made a great deal of sense."

"Well, we have always had the little joke that Edith will be the one to look after us once we reach our old age. Perhaps it's only right that she should get a little practice."

"Robert darling, much as I might privately agree with you, I hope you will only make those remarks sotto voce, they would hurt Edith terribly."

"I know darling, I know. I am sorry, that was unfair of me. But the difference between hers and Mary's London Seasons was significant."

"It doesn't help that they're so close in age…"

"…and so different in character."

Mary's first season had been a spectacular success. Coupled with her sharp beauty, sense of style and her wicked cutting remarks, Mary had been a sought after dance partner and invited everywhere, for her character and conversation as much as her decorative qualities. While there had not been any proposals of marriage, Robert privately thought that Mary would need someone older who was less likely to be intimidated by her intelligence.

Edith's had been muted in comparison. Not helped by Mary's presence, still beautiful, still sharp, still free and easy and looking for a long term partner. The young men who had been invited to Edith's ball all gave her their duty dances, but could not stop their glances straying to her sister. Robert privately thought that this might have strengthened the mutual dislike between the sisters, the sense of triumph on Mary's part had only boosted Edith's jealousy.

"Perhaps it would do her good to have a trip to London on her own terms, to be the real centre of attention for a little while. Before Sybil comes out."

"I was thinking the same thing. Mumma was saying that James and Patrick might be in town…"

"Yes, I had a letter from James, apparently he wants to take Patrick over to America next year…"

"Good heavens! Why?"

"Well, he feels it would do Patrick good to see a little more of the world before he settles down. He's keen to get him settled and married, I think, and it might be best if he sows his wild oats away from the County if his long term future is to be here."

"How different things are when you're raising a boy. As if anyone would ever think our daughters would have wild oats to sow."

Robert's face tightened a little, as it always did at the implication that his daughters might be unchaste, or even considered to be so.

"Let us be glad that is not the case, nor pray will it ever be."

"Have you spoken to James about … about what we discussed?"

"I've not had the chance, he's not been at Downton since and it's not the sort of thing you can put in a letter."

"Perhaps you could catch him in London? If we're opening the house for Mumma?"

"Perhaps … I'll write and see if we can match things up. It would be good to see him again, regardless."

"Of course."

"Are the girls coming down for tea?"

"Yes … I've asked Edith to come a little early so that…"

At that point, the library door opened, revealing Edith herself.

"Am I the first down? Anna's still in with Mary, but I didn't see Sybil…"

"You are dear, come and sit with us, tea will be here soon."

"So, Edith … what do you think about Granny's idea? Are you willing to take the project on? It would be a great responsibility for you, being in Grantham House alone…"

"Oh, Papa I would hardly be alone. Mrs Bute will be there to manage things, and Smithers will help me to care for Granny, she does so much for her at the Dower House already."

Cora smiled to herself privately. How like Robert to forget that servants were people to be taken into account in terms of numbers, and how like her middle daughter to remember. She was the only one of the three who could name all of the servants even in their own house. Just yesterday Cora had heard her give a friendly greeting to the new footman William, whose name Cora felt ashamed to have forgotten until that moment.

"You will know who to call on, if you need help?"

"Granny will have a doctor coming to visit her. If there's anything I need, I can send for him."

"Quite the sensible and grown up lady."

Edith blossomed under her father's affectionate gaze. She was never in doubt of her father's love, not for a single day, but it was nice to be singled out for praise in such a direct way.

"When will everything be settled?"

"Granny will be in touch when she's made all the arrangements, dear. I've asked her to come and see us when she knows more."

"Who's coming to see us?"

The door opened, capitulating both Mary and Sybil into the room.

"Just Granny, she's coming to see us for dinner later this week."

"Oh good," Sybil smiled, helping herself to a cake from the stand that Thomas brought in behind her. "I missed her the other day, she wasn't here long. What did she want to see you about Edith?"

Edith caught her mother's eye, unsure about what she should say to the others.

"Granny needs to take a trip to London for a little while," Cora explained. "She's asked for Edith to go with her, to keep her company."

"Goodness! A few days in London, what a treat!"

"A few weeks, actually."

There was a pause, and a chink, as Mary put down her teacup.

"A few weeks."

It was a statement, a clarification. A challenge for more information.

"Yes," Edith met her sister's cool gaze. "A few weeks. Probably about a month."

"But … why? For such a long time? And goodness, why did she want you? Nobody here can stand to put up with you for more than a few days."

"Mary! I've told you before, I don't approve of that sort of talk."

"Don't worry Papa, Mary's just jealous that Granny wants me instead of her."

"I'm not jealous, I just can't see the attraction."

"Thank you, Thomas, we can serve ourselves for the rest of tea."

Cora and Sybil looked up sharply. Robert was dismissing the servants from the room, this could not be good.

Once the door closed, Robert rounded on Mary.

"You are a thoughtless and selfish child at times…"

"Papa, I…"

"No, you be silent and listen to me for once."

A cold chill ran through the room. Robert having words with Mary was rare, and it was even more rare that this ended well.

"Your Granny came to see Mumma to tell her that she is ill, she's not well and needs to go to London to have some specialist treatment. She doesn't want to make the trip alone, and wants a companion to go with her, to care for her. And that's why she has asked for Edith.

And shall I tell you why she asked for Edith? Because she is kind. She is caring, and unselfish, and has shown herself to be a sensible and grown up young lady who can conduct herself accordingly. This should be your job Mary, but you can be dreadfully cruel, and thoughtless. Such as now."

Cora moved to intervene as Mary's face fell, but Robert was not done. He silenced her with a gesture and even Cora had to admit that Mary had had this coming for some time.

"I mean really, badgering Edith and insulting her in front of the servants, pressing for information about Granny which she wishes to keep in the utmost privacy... You have a lot to learn young lady, and you should have learned it before you were presented, but clearly your education is incomplete. Which means it is only right that you should stay here with us while you learn a hard lesson, while your sister goes to London for the summer.

A heavy silence hung for a few moments, as Mary tried her hardest to compose herself.

"Papa, is Granny going to be alright?"

"Yes Sybil, I believe so. I know that we'll know more once she's seen the doctor in London."

"She said…" Edith stumbled a little, but recovered her composure. "She said it's not serious, but it needs to be taken care of. Before it does mischief."

"Sometimes things in life do need taking care of before they get worse. It's a valuable lesson for us all."

"Speaking of lessons, darling Sybil how did you get on with Madame Lacoste?"

It was a clumsy segue for Cora, but it would do for now. Robert sat and drank his tea in silence while his youngest daughter chattered about her French, and her dancing lesson, aided and abetted by Edith, who had been an extra tutor to her recently. The only black hole in the conversation was Mary, who sat silent also, not even lifting her cup to her lips. She was too well trained to leave without her Mumma's permission, but he knew well enough that her mind would be plotting revenge. Sadly, it would not be against him, for the dressing down. No, from the occasional looks and darted glances, Robert feared it would be against her sister, Edith…


	3. Chapter 3

"So when are you leaving?"

"On Thursday. Granny's got it all arranged. We're to go down on Thursday by train at 9 o'clock, with Smithers, and Mrs Bute has arranged for us to be met at Kings Cross."

"Are you excited? I would be"

"That's because you haven't had your season yet. And anyway… I'm going to help Granny, not to gad about having a jolly time. Sybil darling, hand me that book off the bedside table would you?"

Edith was packing. Not serious packing, that was all taken care of by Anna and Mrs Hughes, but personal packing, gathering up the few bits of precious that she wanted with her in London for her month away. Sybil, eager to be part of her adventure, was in equal measure getting in the way and trying to help.

"Have you spoken to Mary?"

"Whatever for?"

"Come now, don't be like that. You'll be away for the entire month, maybe longer."

"I know, that's it exactly. And the last thing I want before I go is to precipitate another row."

"I bet she's sorry…"

"I don't. When Mary's sorry, she tends to apologise, and she hasn't said a word to me."

Sybil grew quiet, perched on the chair beside Edith's bed. Edith paused, shoving the last book into her bag, before turning to sit on the bed facing Sybil.

"It's no good Sybil. I know that you want us all to be the best of friends, but the best I can hope for with Mary is that I fall beneath her notice and she leaves me alone. We get on best when she ignores me."

"I suppose … I just wish you could be as good as friends as you both are with me."

Edith smiled and leaned over to tweak her sister's wayward curl into place behind her ear. "You get along with both of us because you are twice as nice as either of us."

Sybil giggled, her nose wrinkling in an uncharacteristically cute little bunny gesture.

"Knock knock?"

Edith froze a little as she heard Mary's voice outside the door. How long had she been there?

"Come in?"

Mary was holding a small box in her hands, and a letter tucked in her fingers.

"I was tidying out my drawers and thought you might want some of these. They're just plain handkerchiefs, no scent or markings, but I thought they might be useful bathing foreheads, or in case Granny gets a bit emotional after her stay at St Thomas's."

"Thank you … that's …that's kind of you." Edith reached out to take the box and added it to her packing.

"I won't be coy Edith, I heard what you said to Sybil. And I am sorry, and should have said so. Papa was right, I can be a brute sometimes, but I am worried about Granny. And it is good that someone in the family is going to take care of her."

Edith was stunned, and from the look on Sybil's face so was she. Although Sybil always hoped for the best from her sisters, she was frequently disappointed in their behaviour towards each other. Edith knew she must speak, and somehow freed her tongue.

"I wish we did get along better Mary. Not least because we love the same people."

"Well … I promise to try harder until you leave. You were right. We shouldn't part with a row. Not with Granny going to hospital. Papa doesn't say, but I know he's worried about her."

Sybil began to let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. A truce was something. Not peace, as she had hoped, but something.

"Who's the letter from?"

"Oh, that? It's from Patrick, he writes that he's going to be in London with Cousin James in three weeks. It was tucked in with a letter to Mumma, she said I should bring it up for you both to see, it was to all of us."

"So he is going to be in London?"

"Perhaps you should write, Edith, tell him you'll be in town?"

"I think Granny's writing to James, Sybil, but I might drop him a note."

"I think he'd relish some company that isn't his Papa."

Edith noted that Mary was trying. A few weeks ago she would have added a barbed comment about how 'even her company' was better than James's. But she was right. The sisters were astute enough to recognise that their affectionate relationship with their own parents was not mirrored in James and Patrick's familial bond. If anything they bickered even worse than Edith and Mary did, it drove their own Papa to distraction. Patrick had been a frequent visitor to Downton during his teens and during his holidays from Oxford University, but now aged 23 he could no longer avoid what James termed his 'real occupation' – the business of finding a wife and siring the next heir to Downton.

"We'll see. Perhaps I shouldn't make plans until we know how Granny is."

"When is she seeing the doctor?"

"Dr Ryder is making a house call on Friday, to come and talk everything through. She's asked me to sit in with her, so that both of us know what's coming next."

"Poor Granny. She must be so worried."

"Oh don't worry Sybil. Granny's tougher than she looks."

Edith thought to herself, not for the first time, that while she and her grandmother were closer, Mary was taking after her in the more 'spiky' elements of her character.

"What will you both do while I'm away?"

"Urgh. More ghastly French. What else?"

"Mary? What about you?"

"The York and Ainsty hunt's riding out about a week after you go."

"From Downton?"

"Yes, at the last minute. It was meant to be from Haxby, but they cried off for some reason, so Papa stepped in and agreed to host it."

"Goodness! What a treat!"

Mary smiled. Edith was trying too. Perhaps it was best to quit while they were both ahead.

"Here, you read it first… Sybil darling have you done your music practice yet?"

"Oh Mary, don't be such a bore…"

"Come along… Mumma will be checking up on you later…"

Gently Mary chivvied Sybil out of the room, leaving Edith to read the note in peace.

With a little smile, making sure the door was closed, Edith sat to read it, tracing her fingers over the edge of the note. Even though it wasn't a private note, she could pretend that it was.

 _Darling Girls,_

Oh, if only he would say darling Edith instead.

 _How I miss you, and dear Downton. Is everything in bloom yet?_

 _Mary, has Diamond broken in properly yet? You still owe me a wild galloping race._

 _Sybil, how goes the dreaded French? Have you started Latin yet? If you like, I'll send you my primer from Oxford, it's here somewhere._

 _And dear Edith –_

 **Dear Edith!**

 _Great Aunt Violet writes that she is stealing you away for the summer to London, but is maddeningly lacking in details. Will you be in town for long? Papa says we are to spend some time in London this summer, he's taking apartments in Grosvenor Square. Do write and let me know more, London is so much more fun with charming companions._

 _Write to me soon,_

 _Your affectionate cousin_

 _Patrick_

Edith flopped back luxuriously onto her bed. Dear Edith. How she missed darling Patrick, and it seemed that he missed her too. He hadn't said Dear Mary, or Dear Sybil, but in this letter at least she was his dear Edith…

If only he knew, if only his Papa knew, how she longed to always he his dear Edith.

Perhaps…

The thought was almost too delicious to put into coherent words. But perhaps … this summer … with Patrick in town, longing for company, and Edith around and perhaps free to spend some time with him after Granny had recovered, perhaps she really and truly could be his dear Edith.

She hugged herself in a grin, a secret wish to be kept to herself, proof against all of the teasing and low expectations her family tossed at her feet.

Dear Edith… Dear Edith indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN  
Thanks for the feedback everyone, I'm happy with how this story progresses. And yes, do keep an eye on Mary. Her part in this story might be intermittent, but she's not got quite done in this tale yet. **

-

The train trundled away, finally. The goodbyes had felt interminable to Edith, the full contingent had turned out at the station, as if they were going to the moon rather than London.

"Do telegraph, once you're settled. It would set my mind at rest."

Papa had spoken to her softly, once Granny was stowed safely into her first class seat.

"Oh course Papa. I will send out immediately once we're at Grantham House."

"Mrs Bute will see you settled. I know we're all used to Mrs Hughes, but she does a very good job…"

"She was lovely when we were in London for my ball. I'm certainly we'll get along just fine."

"Robert! Do let her go, or the train shall depart without her!"

Lord Grantham had smiled down at his daughter, handing her aboard, and pulling securing the door. The window was pulled down, so Edith could lean out for now.

"Goodbye Mumma, darling Sybil …" _In for a penny…_ "And do take care Mary."

"Just take care of Granny. That's all we could ask."

"Do get in touch if you need anything, I can always come down…"

"We'll be fine Mumma…"

"All aboard!"

Edith waved as the train pulled out, but moved in to push the window closed before the steam could engulf the carriage.

"Well … we're on our way Granny."

"Yes … Well…"

"Are you alright, shall I take your wrap?"

"Yes dear, if you could…"

So now it was time to start duties. Taking care of Granny. Wraps and hat removed and safely stowed, gloves stored in the handbag, the two were settled for the long train ride to London. There was no luncheon service on this train, they would be in Kings Cross in London for one o'clock and luncheon would be served late at two for the weary travellers. They were however supplied with a basket of cakes and biscuits from Mrs Patmore and tea would be served in their carriage at 11am.

"What time will Dr Ryder be calling tomorrow, Granny?"

"At ten o'clock. He has a morning surgery, but has agree to make a private visit to settle everything."

Edith sat quietly. She knew little about Granny's condition, other than it was something to do with her being a woman. Cora had given her a talk when she was thirteen about the facts of life. Later, Edith realised that Mary had started her courses, and Cora had decided that Edith should be brought into the secrets of womanhood before her sister could scare her half to death. Being an American, Cora had been a little more frank and forthcoming than many mothers, but there were still alarming gaps in her knowledge. Surely now that Granny was long finished with having children, there was nothing else that could go wrong. Dying in childbirth was still something that all women feared, but Granny had come through that so many years ago without any lasting effects.

"You're very quiet Edith, dear. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, sorry Granny, I was just distracted. What would you like to play?"

Violet was not stupid. Far from it. As the two sat and played cards together in the small snug carriage, the echoes of concern flickered over her granddaughter's face, chasing her question about the doctor. Of course the poor dear was worried, and lacking in any information to allay her fears. This was why Violet had asked her to sit in with the doctor tomorrow. She was deeply fond of the girl, of course she was, but there were simply things that she could not put into words. As far as Violet was concerned, this explanation was part of the doctor's duty. He had the knowledge and the words and the sheer dispassion to do so without the need for embarrassment. It was part of his job and there for included in his exorbitant fee.

"So what are you intending to do with yourself while you're in London? Other than running after little me?"

"Well … Patrick sent a note, to say he's going to be in town. I thought I might ask him to look him, if that's acceptable."

"Oh perfectly dear. You were all children together, you don't need a chaperone…" Violet caught her granddaughter's eye. "Unless you think you need one?"

Was it just her imagination or…

…no, Edith was blushing.

"Or you want one?"

"Oh … oh no, I'm sure there's no need. I'll invite him to tea one day, once they've arrived. He says Cousin James is taking apartments in Grovesnor Square."

"Oh-ho! My my. Well at least James knows how to spend his trust fund."

"Patrick said they had business to take care of."

"Oh James always does, but so much of it revolves around the Carlton Club and Boodle's…"

"Granny, you mustn't say such things , people will think that you don't like James."

"Well, well, we can't have that. People should never be allowed to permitted entry to an unpalatable truth."

"So you don't?"

"Between you and me, my dear, James takes on the worst parts of the Crawleys and a good dose of his mother into the bargain. He's haughty, arrogant, and exorbitantly fond of getting his own way, and takes a relish in seeing other people squirm."

Edith mulled this over. The description was accurate, there was no doubt, but she was also reminded of Mary.

"You're thinking of your sister. And I don't need to say which one."

Edith looked up sharply.

"Don't worry my dear, I have sixty years of experience in reading faces, and it would take a dunce to miss the friction between you two."

"Well … yes I was thinking of Mary. Although she has tried harder to be civil to me before we left."

"And that, my dear, is part of why she is different to James. She is aware that she needs to be different on occasion, and is willing to exert herself in that direction. Also, she is willing to apologise when she's in the wrong. An admirable trait which James does not share."

This much had to be admitted as true. It was a source of constant friction between James and Patrick, a steady source of complaint from the teenage Patrick who had been seeking ways to stamp his independence on his existence.

"I hope," Granny's voice cut through Edith's inward reflection. " – that you will be able to get on better as you get older. Of course, it doesn't held that you are both in constant competition."

"Competition for what?"

"For a husband, dear. What else? You're both out in society, both young, both attractive … no, no don't sniff dear, you might not look like Mary, but you have a charm of your own… and you both need to be settled. I'm not going to quote Miss Austen, but a single woman in possession of fortune should be on the hunt for a husband too. Once one of you is married, perhaps you can help the other. A husband's circle of friends can have wonderful consequences for the romantic adventures of a sister."

Edith privately hoped that she would never be dependent on Mary's help to find a husband.

"I wonder if Patrick is looking to settle soon … I mean, he is older than you girls."

"Not much older Granny. Mary's twenty, I'm nineteen … Patrick is only twenty three."

"Oh but he's done with his studies now, and has been for some time."

"Surely it's better to take a little longer and make sure you marry the right person?"

"Is there a danger of him rushing into something with the wrong person?"

"There might be if Cousin James pushes him too much. I'd hate to think that Patrick would do something rash to secure his independence."

"Hmmm…"

Edith shuffled the deck, and dealt a fresh hand. Just as they were finishing up, the waiter arrived with the tea tray.

"Ah, marvellous. A nice cup of tea to push the steam away."

"Can I offer you some biscuits Granny?"

"Oh go on … since your father isn't here to tell me off." Violet nibbled away at a dainty macaroon. "Edith dear … I do hope that you won't do anything rash."

"Why Granny, whatever do you mean?"

"Well dear … I know that I do focus a lot on the need for you to marry, for all of you to marry." This was an understatement, Granny had talked of little else since Mary's first ball. "But … I do hope that you will choose wisely. Marriage is a long and permanent business. And you were quite right about Patrick, it is good to take a little time and make sure that you do marry the right person. For once done, it can't truly be undone. I know that divorce happens, we all do, but not for people like us. Not truly."

"Why Granny… you are a romantic."

"You mistake me dear, I am a realist. Perhaps more of a realist than those who insist that any marriage is better than no marriage. Just make sure that when the time comes, when a proposal comes, it is what you want. And not in the heated rush of youth, but with an eye to forty, maybe even fifty years of shared life together."

"Do you think it's better to marry someone that you know?"

"I think that knowing someone's character as well as their appearance is a good first step. So my dear … would you pour another cup for me?"

The train trundled on through the Yorkshire countryside toward the metropolis of London. And with every click and clack, Edith's secretly cherished hope began to blossom…


	5. Chapter 5

The front door closed in the background and Edith exhaled quietly. The first hurdle was done and dusted, the doctor had gone. Edith rang the bell, feeling spent and worn out. The doctor's call had been sadly delayed by an emergency call, and she and Granny had both been on tenterhooks waiting for the interview to be over all day.

"Could we have some more tea, please, Mrs Bute?"

"I'll see to it now Milady."

Mrs Bute smiled kindly at Edith. Unlike the older daughter, this one had kept her manners as she'd grown up and never forgot her please's and thankyou's.

"So … how are you feeling about it all, Granny?"

Violet had been taciturn during the appointment, not even dropping her little acid remarks which usually punctuated awkward conversations.

"At least it's all clear. I can't say I approve, but at least now we know."

"I'll come with you to St Thomas's Hospital, to settle you in on Monday."

"At least there will be a private room." Violet sniffed. "I wouldn't want to be sharing with any hoi polli."

Edith smiled to herself. Her grandmother was such a snob, but on this she had to agree. It was difficult enough to be ill, but being ill and surrounded by strangers much be so disagreeable.

"Would you like me to pack for you?"

"Oh no, no… Smithers will take care of that. Don't worry about that dear. No … what I need is something to do, to keep my mind busy until it's time to go."

"Are you … well enough to go out? I could see if we can get a reservation somewhere?"

Violet's countenance sank.

"I don't think I would be able to eat very much dear."

Suddenly, Edith saw her grandmother in a completely different light. Not the formidable dowager countess, the woman who had run Downton for more than thirty years. But a scared, small and vulnerable woman, a frightened old lady. She reached out to take her hand and was surprised when her fingers were squeezed in return.

"It's … alright, Granny. It's just me. You don't have to keep up the façade with me."

"Oh my dear… I'm just so … so…"

"So what, darling Granny?"

"So afraid that if I let everything slide, I won't be able to put it all back together again."

"I will help you. That's what I'm here for."

"I know…" Violet patted Edith's hand with her free one. "It's just not like me."

"Perhaps it is you, Granny. It's just not the Dowager Countess of Grantham."

Violet smiled. A real one, rather than an ironic one. Her eyes were a little damp. The façade was slowly coming down.

Edith heard the quick light step in the hall, Mrs Bute was returning with the tea. She patted Violet's hand and went to relieve Mrs Bute of her burden. It would not do for a servant to see her grandmother in this state. She met her just outside the sitting room door.

"Thank you Mrs Bute, I'll take it from here."

"Yes Milady…" Mrs Bute paused for a second, not quite releasing the tray.

"Milady…"

"Yes Mrs Bute?"

"Is there anything I can do…? To help…?"

Her eyes strayed to the sitting room.

"What do you mean Mrs Bute?"

"Milady, I've been taking care of Grantham House for more than ten years. I've known the Dowager Countess as a visitor for all of that time. This is the first time she's arrived and barely eaten a bite for lunch."

Edith remembered the unfinished macaroon biscuit on the train.

"…and this morning at breakfast there was little difference in what went back down. I cut your portions for lunch, and there was still more left. And then the doctor came to call this afternoon… So … I'm asking now. Is there anything I can do?"

"Not right now Mrs Bute, but my Grandmother has been suffering from a loss of appetite. She's … going away, for a few days, to try and recover some of her health. She'll be back to finish her recovery here at Grantham House."

"I see."

Edith could tell, with relief, that Mrs Bute genuinely did see.

"Well Milady, I shall try to adjust the menus for the next few days. When is Lady Grantham … ah, taking her trip?"

"On Monday. I'm hoping that she won't be away for more than a few days."

"Will Lady Grantham be …resting?"

"Yes, rebuilding her strength."

"Well Milady … it's none of my business, but there are a number of games in the billiard room suitable for two players. A backgammon board, which must have been here since your Grandfather's time. A set of chequers, and I believe a rather fine chess set. Some packets of playing cards. And a few books which your lady mother never bothered to take back to Yorkshire. I'm not sure if any of that is useful to you…"

"It is most useful, Mrs Bute. Thank you, for your insight, and your discretion."

"But of course Milady. And now … your tea will get cold if I keep you any longer."

Edith glanced down at the tray, laden with Battenberg cake, her grandmother's usual treat.

"Shall I take this away milady?"

"Yes … I think so. Perhaps, some rich tea biscuits?"

"I'll bring them up for you."

Coming back into the room, Edith noted that her grandmother had been dabbing at her eyes with a hankie.

"Ohhh, I was wondering where you had gotten to. Was everything alright?"

"Oh yes, quite alright. Mrs Bute has gone to get some biscuits to go with our tea, they got missed off the tray."

"Oh good… I wish I could have some Battenberg cake, but I'm afraid it just wouldn't agree with me right now."

"It's alright Granny. I'll order some for when you're feeling better again."

Edith sipped her tea.

"It feels a little odd, being in London and not rushing out to dinner. Things are always so hectic during the season."

"Yes … I forget, this is your first visit to London out of season, isn't it dear?"

"It is, rather. I don't count the childhood visits, somehow. Having supper with Nanny felt the same as being at home in Yorkshire."

"I think you've rather outgrown supper with Nanny now dear."

"I would hope so. But it was easier to stay amused as a child. Perhaps I should learn to play something new, a game for passing the time."

Edith glanced up, waiting to see if her Granny would take the bait.

"Well, it is always a good idea. Obviously bridge is an excellent game for company, but it is good to have a repertoire up your sleeve."

"What games did you learn, Granny?"

"Oh, the usual … whist, obviously, always a good starter for Bridge. But you really need four for those. Although, when I was last down in London Rosamund taught me a that game called Gin Rummy."

"Was that what you taught me on the train?"

"Yes dear, that was the one."

"Nanny was always trying to teach us chess when Mary and I were little, but Mary hated board games."

"Oh! My my, I didn't realise that you had been taught chess. I learned to play with Lady Sarah Anstruther, when we took our trip to the Rhineland in the 80s. Her husband was a good player, and he enjoyed having good opponents, so he taught both of us. Lord Grantham, your grandfather, never took to it. Did you get along well with it?"

"Well … not very well. But I would like to learn."

"We must see about getting a set and I shall teach you…"

"I think Papa kept a set here … in the Billiard Room. Shall I go look for it?"

Edith congratulated herself on her way through the house. She knew the rudiments of Chess and longed to be better at it. It was a game that so many men were good at, but not many women. And on a small and rather selfish level, she longed to find something that she would be better at than Mary.

"Here we are Granny…"

The board was heavy, the box containing the pieces was ornate.

"Goodness ME, I thought this was at Downton, I had no idea it was here!"

"You know this set?"

"Know it, my dear it was purchased for me, on that very trip…"

"What a coincidence."

"Well, well … let's see about setting it up and we can see how much you have remembered…"

…

The shadows grew long and the lights burned late as the two women sat together, the grey head and the blonde bent together over the board, Violet teaching Edith the roles and moves of the chess pieces. Mrs Bute smiled to herself when she came in to remove the tea tray and enquire when they would like their supper. They had become so absorbed, they had forgotten to change, and opted instead for trays in the sitting room.

"I never realised that it could be so interesting…"

"You shall have to come and visit me for a game when we return home. Although, if you really want a good partner, there is another member of the family who took to the game, who I am certain would love a challenge…"

"Who? Not Papa surely…"

"No, not your dear Papa…" Violet looked up, a wicked little smile around her lips as she made sure of having an avid pupil for the next few days.

"Patrick was always such an excellent chess player… I wonder if he still plays now… "

Edith's shining smile suggested that she was determined to find out!


	6. Chapter 6

"Good morning Milady."

"Good morning, Mrs Bute."

"Breakfast is all ready for you Miss, but Lady Grantham asked me to let you know she's having breakfast in bed this morning. She slept poorly, and is still tired from the journey."

"Oh … oh well, thank you for letting me know Mrs Bute."

Well, why shouldn't Granny spoil herself if she was feeling wretched? Edith had every intention of having breakfast in bed every day once she was married. She was not a morning person, when left to her own devices. Edith helped herself to a couple of poached eggs and a portion of kedgeree from the side board, and a half piece of grapefruit. Her seat at the table looked a little lonely. She was used to company for breakfast, usually both of her sisters, and darling Papa. Mumma too, if her Granny was expected to call during the morning.

Which reminded her, as she poured a cup of tea, she really must send that note to Patrick this morning to let him know that they had arrived in town. James's letter to Downton had said they would not be in London for some weeks yet, but she had their address in Yorkshire.

"Mrs Bute, what time does the post get collected this morning?"

"At half past eight Milady."

"Goodness, that early? I wonder Mrs Bute, could you bring my writing case from the drawing room? The little green one on the table? I must get a letter off in the morning post. I know it's not polite to write at the breakfast table…"

"Don't worry Milady, I won't tell if you won't."

A short flurry of activity later and the note was on the table in the hallway in time to be collected. Edith sat back, feeling accomplished, and rewarded herself with another cup of tea and some biscuits from the side board.

"Shall I clear away, Milady."

"Please do, Mrs Bute. I'll just finish my tea and go through to the drawing room."

"Have you any plans for the day Miss?"

"Not really … I was waiting to see how my Grandmother was this morning. If she's having breakfast in bed, I'll wait to see if she's getting up before deciding anything."

"The fire in the drawing room's lit. If anyone calls, should we say you're at home?"

"I doubt anyone will today, but yes please, if company does call. I can receive even if Lady Grantham's not well."

Edith felt so grown up, discussing plans for being 'at home' during the day. Normally such decisions were taken by her mother, and the girls were expected to fall in line with her plans. Even if nobody called, being left in charge of Grantham House was a thrilling experience.

"We get The Times and The Sketch delivered when Grantham House is open Milady, I've put them in the drawing room for you, should you wish to read them."

Edith realised that she was being ever so gently chivvied out of the room so that the maid could get in and clear up. Taking the hint, she gathered up her writing box and went through.

Grantham House was comfortable, Cora's good taste had furnished it in a slightly more modern style when she had married Robert. There was central heating, and plentiful lighting, even with electricity in the downstairs rooms, although not in the bedrooms. But despite the pleasant surroundings, the novelty of her own company wore off quickly for Edith. The morning dragged, not helped by the weather, which had turned grey and wet overnight. London in the rain was nowhere near as romantic as the poets made it out to be, thought Edith. Possibly because they wrote from the country, or from the luxury of dry and well heated rooms.

Having written to Papa to let him know about their conversation with the doctor, and read The Sketch, she had still only whiled away the morning until ten o'clock. Granny had not emerged. After failing to engross herself in a novel, Edith rang for tea at eleven o'clock, longing to talk to someone, even if it was only one of the maids.

Mrs Bute brought the tray, set with one cup.

"How is Lady Grantham Mrs Bute, should I go up and see her?"

"She's been resting this morning Milady, but has asked if you would join her for lunch in her room? She's up and out of bed, but not dressed."

"I see. Yes, I will do, what time did she suggest?"

"At 1 o'clock Milady."

"Very good Mrs Bute, I shall do that."

…

"Good afternoon Granny, how are you?"

Not well, Edith thought. Granny looked pale and tired, even after her restful morning, with dark smudges under her eyes. She seemed fretful and, according to Smithers, in a hushed conversation outside the door, had barely eaten enough to feed a sparrow for breakfast.

"Oh my dear. I had forgotten how much travelling by train could wipe a person's energy away. I feel worse today than I did yesterday. And that bed! I tossed and turned for two nights now, I wondered that you couldn't hear me all the way down the corridor."

"Oh dear, poor Granny. What can I do to help?"

"Well, not much dear, unless you can hurry Monday along and make sure it gets here quickly."

"It's coming Granny, as soon as it can. Would you like me to arrange for a taxi to take us to St Thomas's?"

"Yes dear, I think that would be best."

The door opened and in came Smithers and Mrs Bute with the luncheon trays. Edith was struck by the difference between the two. On hers, there was a small sea food salad with prawns and flakes of crab, a fresh bread roll, thin slices of ham and a portion of chutney, with two glazed pear halves in a little glass dish. A glass of fresh made lemonade accompanied the luncheon feast. Edith felt spoilt, her Papa insisted on water being served with luncheon at home. However, her grandmother's tray was quite different. No salad, no slices of meat or fresh bread. There was a bowl of thin, clear soup, chicken from the scent of it, some slices of plain cold toast and a small bowl of green grapes, plucked and halved. There was a glass of water, and a thimble's worth of Epsom salts.

"Thank you Mrs Bute, that's most kind."

"Do ring if you need anything else Milady."

When the door closed, Edith turned to her Grandmother in dismay.

"Granny … is that all you're eating?"

"Oh my dear … if I can manage all of this it will be a good day. Would you be a dear and stir those salts into the glass of water for me?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a sip of my lemonade?"

"Oh no no no, dear, far too sharp for me. Thought that's most kind of you."

Edith played nurse maid, belatedly realising that all of her lunch had been served cold for a reason. She could eat as slowly as her Grandmother, without losing any of the flavour or freshness. Truly Mrs Bute was a treasure, a bastion of tact; she must remember to write to her mother and recommend Mrs Bute to her for her kindness.

Violet managed to eat half of the soup. Edith put on what she thought of as her 'Mary' hat to boss her into finishing the toast and grapes, after which Violet finished the water. She was exhausted.

"Would you like to play cards Granny, or chess?"

"Do you know dear, I think I … I think I'd like to try and have a little nap. Perhaps I'll be able to come down for dinner later."

A look at her grey pinched face made Edith doubt this.

"Don't worry about that Granny. I'm sure Smithers can bring up a tray for you later if you're not feeling up to it."

"Well … perhaps … we shall see…"

She was already drooping. Edith rang the bell, and when she came up, helped Smithers to resettle Granny into bed and left them to settle her in for a nap.

Outside the room, Edith felt exhausted. She hadn't expected the visit to be a free and easy life, but the long isolation of the morning, and the worry about how little her Grandmother was eating, not to mention how tired and grey she was looking, had left her feeling worn down. Facing a long afternoon alone, Edith stopped by her own room to pick up a couple of books before going back downstairs to the sitting room.

As she began her descent, a bell chimed at the front door. Conversation hummed and burbled.

"Sir, I'm not sure whether Lady Edith is…"

"I know she's not expecting me, but…"

"If you could just wait I'll..."

"Who is it, Sarah?"

"Oh Lady Edith, there you are, Mrs Bute couldn't find…"

"Oh good…"

The voice at the door was familiar. As Edith came down the last staircase into the hall, she saw the caller, a young man, with his back to her, shaking out an umbrella before closing it at the front door. As he turned, removing his hat to look up toward her, Edith suddenly realised who it was.

"…I was so hoping to find you here! It's far too wet anyone so sensible as you to go out. Tell me, is there any chance of some tea and charming conversation for this damp and soggy traveller?"

His face was open, friendly and so welcome. Edith could scarcely hold back from running to meet him.

"Goodness … Patrick! How lovely to see you!"

Perhaps the afternoon was going to be salvaged after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Chapter 7 picks up immediately after the end of Chapter 6, so the two of them flowed beautifully in the writing and it made sense to post them as soon as they were ready. Don't get too spoilt, double chapter posting is a rarity in my schedule these days ;)**

 **Yes, Violet is really ill, but we do know she will recover. However, the Crawley family do not, and facing her potential mortality will be a bit of a spur to them to take action to secure the future of the Crawley line...**

 **A couple of points -**

 **Mrs Bute should be Mrs Butte according to the Wiki, please forgive me if I keep my spelling, as my spell checker does not like Butte at all.**

 **I got Violet's maids mixed up, she should still have Simmons rather than Smithers, but again, please forgive my small anachronism. I'm sure all of Violet's maids were cookie-cutter before she hired Denker anyway!**

 **I couldn't find any reference to a resident Butler at Grantham House, so I'm going to put Mrs Bute in charge of the wine cellar rather than invent one.**

 **Patrick's club, for this story, is the New University Club, open to all Oxford and Cambridge Graduates, which was on St James's Street. Grantham House is in St James's Square, so he really didn't have a long walk in the rain. His Father, for this story, is a member of Boodle's, and regularly visits The Carlton Club, as a member of the Conservative Party. So he and Patrick don't stay at the same club when they're in London.**

-

"Come through, please do! My goodness, you're soaking."

"Only on the outside layer. I couldn't get a taxi, so I walked."

"From where?"

"Oh not far, only from my club, it's on St James's Street…"

"Goodness! I didn't think you were going to be in London for weeks!"

"Ah well, that was Papa's plan. Mine took an unexpected turn just after I wrote to you all."

With Patrick's hat and coat divested and removed safely to dry, Edith and Patrick were soon ensconced into two snug arm chairs in the drawing room. By the time they were settled, Mrs Bute had appeared with an afternoon tea tray.

"Oh, just put that down here Mrs Bute. We can see to ourselves, thank you."

Obligingly Mrs Bute set it down onto the small table by the fireside, within easy reach for Edith and Patrick. Clearly the cook, Mrs Hopkins, had enjoyed hearing that there was company in the house who would eat her delights, for the tray was loaded with a selection of biscuits, queen cakes, iced fancies and hot toast with gentleman's relish.

Edith was relieved. While her own luncheon had been larger than her grandmother's, the sudden burst of happiness and promise of pleasant conversation had awoken her digestive system beyond the small tray served upstairs almost two hours ago. This was a proper afternoon tea, Mrs Patmore would thoroughly approve.

"So where did you take yourself off to?"

"Paris." Patrick looked smug and wicked over the rim of his teacup. "All of a sudden I knew that if I didn't flee somewhere, be myself for a bit, Papa and I were going to have the most frightful row."

"Paris! But how simply marvellous! Were you there for long?"

"Not long. Just a few days. An old friend from Oxford, Robert Gantry, has taken this wild idea into his head to go and pretend at being a starving artist in Mont Martre. He invited a few of us to go down for a sort of settling-in bash for a couple of days. Rooms on the Champs Elysees, dinner at the La Tour D'Argent, cabaret at the Moulin Rouge…"

"Oh do stop, you're making me jealous. Was your Papa furious?"

"He probably still is, I haven't seen him since I left. I only got off the boat train last night."

Edith peeled with laughter. Patrick's escapades were legendary among the Crawley sisters, especially since his graduation from Oxford. He had this wonderful habit of making friends with homes and corners in the most delicious and exotic spots, although it did mean he also had a habit of disappearing from time to time, which meant they say less of him. No wonder he had managed to get himself a position at the Foreign Office, he was already a seasoned traveller.

"Will you tell him you're back?"

"I'll send him a telegram when I get back to the club, I promise."

"Good boy."

"I'm surprised to find you all alone here, I thought you were taking care of great aunt Violet?"

"I was. I am, rather. But the thing is, she's really and truly not well. She didn't get up today, although I went and had luncheon in her room. If you can call half a bowl of soup and cold toast luncheon…"

"Oh dear … "

Patrick's face fell. Despite the age gap he was deeply fond of Violet, who he always called Aunt V to the girls as they referred to her as Granny. On his visits, he always made time to pop over to the Dower House for tea. Far more often than his father did, which occasionally caused a little friction.

"The truth is Patrick … well, the thing is I'm not sure how much you know."

"Not a great deal, I suspect. Since any information that gets to me has to first pass through your father and then through mine."

"Well … Granny isn't well. And I mean truly isn't well, not just the small complaint she had us all think it was. We saw the doctor on Friday."

"Well what did he say?"

Edith blushed for a moment. Dr Ryder had been frank and to the point with her, but she was a young lady, and Patrick was a young man. How much was it proper to tell him? Luckily, Patrick was a quick study, and sensitive to such issues since the death of his own mother.

"Edith dear, shall we just assume that the cause is something that I could never suffer from?"

"Yes. Yes, that's it exactly."

"I see. So, what – in general broad strokes – is to be done?"

"An operation."

"Goodness, as serious as that? I always had this idea that Aunt V was as solid as a rock!"

"I think we all did. Papa included. This has all hit him very hard."

"When is it all to take place?"

"I'm taking her to St Thomas's on Monday. Actually, I need to sort out a taxi for that…"

"Oh, why don't you let me take care of that? I can get the club to book one, and I shall collect you and take you both to St Thomas's, and then bring you back here again when it's all done. That way you won't have to make your own way home afterwards."

"Oh Patrick, would you? Are you staying that long?"

"Darling girl, you didn't think you'd be left on your own to deal with all this did you? I'm certain you are a capital nurse, I can see exactly why Aunt V would want you with her through all this, but London can be such a rough place when you don't have help to see to things for you. Of course I will stay in town, especially if she's going to have to have an operation."

Edith felt warm all the way down to her toes. How lovely to have someone rush to her protection and rescue, while still having confidence in her.

"I will telegraph father, and tell him I'm staying put for a bit. He might decide to bring plans forward a bit and come down to London, we'll see. But either way, I am not budging. At least until you know the outcome."

"Won't he mind?"

"Mind? He'll be thrilled I'm not off to Prague, or Vienna. I did threaten him with that if he didn't stop his incessant picking at me. And besides, I'm due to start work at the Foreign Office at the end of the summer, I should really start thinking where I'm going to live, or I'll end up in a box or cupboard or something…"

Edith laughed again, helped herself to a queen cake and another cup.

"Will you stay for dinner?"

"If the cook won't mind."

Edith reached for the bell. "Mind? Mrs Hopkins will be thrilled to have someone to cook for."

Mrs Bute appeared in a short time.

"Mrs Bute, Mr Crawley will be staying for dinner, could you let Mrs Hopkins know?"

"I will do so Milady. Oh incidentally, the Dowager Countess has decided to have another tray in her room. Smithers will take it up for her and eat with her, to make sure everything is alright."

To make sure she eats everything, thought Edith.

"Very good Mrs Bute."

"She sends her regards down to Mr Crawley, but regrets she is not well enough for company today sir."

"Not to matter Mrs Bute. Please give her my greetings and reassure her that I shall see her again when she is rested and feeling more like herself."

Edith was reminded of her father. How marvellous Patrick was to conduct himself so smoothly in such a distressing situation, without giving the slightest hint that he was aware of the gravity of the situation. He was going to make a wonderful earl one day.

"I shall do that sir."

And with that she was gone.

"Well," said Patrick, turning to face Edith. "Thank you so much for the most marvellous tea, and for bringing me properly up to date."

"Are you leaving?"

"Well, I should go back and change before dinner, and make sure that my man has taken care of retrieving my luggage from the boat train. The last thing I want is for my tails to be on their way to Amsterdam or somewhere equally ghastly."

Edith had been about to put him off going home to change, to beg him to stay regardless, but realised that it would give her chance to dress up too. She hadn't seen Patrick for months, and there some delectable new dresses in her wardrobe to dazzle him with upstairs.

"No indeed, that would not be good. Well, dinner is at eight, but do come a little early. I'll persuade Mrs Bute to look out something nice from the cellar and we can have a drink beforehand if you would like."

"I would like, certainly."

Patrick took Edith's hand and kissed it, continental style.

"Meanwhile, I shall make arrangements for the car to collect us all on Monday, just after breakfast, and convey us to St Thomas's. And I hope you will allow me to try and cheer you up afterwards."

"I'm counting on it," Edith dimpled.

"Then I shall say adieu, until this evening."

And again, so smoothly and with such confidence, he was gone, back out into the rain and down the street towards the rank. Edith sighed to herself, sad to have lost his company, but looking forward to his return. She could hardly believe it was still so wet outside, for it felt as though Patrick had brought the sun back to Grantham House with him.

Half past five. Heavens, not a minute to lose! If she was to bathe, wash her hair and be dressed and presentable for half past seven, she had better get started and quickly!


	8. Chapter 8

**AN For this chapter I wanted to delve a little deeper into the relationship between Patrick and the Crawley girls, and the reasons why Mary might have been the choice for Patrick to marry, as well as providing a little more interaction between P and E.**  
 **Edith, to my mind, was utterly starved of attention and open affection. Caught between the two sisters with better prospects, she has faded a little at Downton, and this burst of one-to-one attention and affection, while familial, will be unfamiliar to her and she will drink it in like a flower drinks in the sun. However, that doesn't mean that Patrick is especially loving to her. I've decided that as an only child, he would have adored his visits to see his cousins, in much the same way as Rose did in the later series. Having cousins would be the closest thing he could get to siblings, and he and the girls would be allies in all of the little childhood schemes and plots. We know from S2Ep6 that Edith wasn't sure that Patrick ever knew that she loved him, but she knows that she did. I'm trying very hard in this story not to deviate from cannon in that sense, but Edith is certainly enjoying her time in the sunlight of Patrick's warmth here.**

"Is that how you wanted it, Milady?"

"Yes, perfect, thank you Smithers, and thank you so much for your help this evening."

The elderly lady's maid smiled at Edith. It had been nice to work with a young woman's hair and complexion again, and while the family did rave about Lady Mary and Lady Sybil, she had a soft spot of her own for Edith's 'English Rose' complexion. Lady Grantham was still asleep, she would go and wake her for a spot of supper a little later, so there had been time to spare to help Lady Edith get ready for dinner.

Edith hadn't had the attentions of a proper lady's maid since her coming out season, when O'Brien and her mother had helped her to dress. She hadn't taken to O'Brien, and couldn't understand what he mother saw in the woman if she was honest, but Smithers had worked wonders. Her long blonde hair had been rubbed dry, combed through, styled excellently into place. Edith was sure she could dance the cancan with abandon and not a single lock would come free from the elegant woven knot at the back of her head tonight.

The carriage clock on the mantelpiece chimed seven thirty. He'd be here soon. One final look at herself in the glass and Edith was satisfied, or at least as much as she could be.

The dress was one of her favourites, a dusky pink, with a gold leaf print over the bodice, and a demure (but not too fusty) neckline scoop. Her gloves were the sheen of oyster shell, and there was the little gold cross necklace she had been given for her confirmation. Edith longed for pearls, but Mumma insisted she should wait until she was married, and since Papa insisted that the girls should be twenty one before they were married, it looked as though she would be in for a long wait.

Arriving downstairs, she checked that the drawing room was set for entertaining. The side table held packets of cards, a favourite book or two for reading aloud, and the small table by the fire held the chess set, newly polished and set forth in gleaming handsome style. The fire burned bright in the grate, the curtains were drawn against the rain darkened skies and all was cosy. A small tray upon the sideboard held two small wine glasses, and a decanter with some fresh, crisp Moselle. Not too much though, there was claret to go with the Beef Fillet for dinner.

In the distance, Edith heard the door…

"Mr Patrick Crawley, Milady…"

Edith rose to greet him and marvelled all over afresh at how dashing a young gentleman could look when properly kitted out in a white tie suit with tails.

"Edith, dear…"

"So your man managed to rescue your tails…"

Patrick laughed at her jokes, yet another reason why Edith was predisposed to adore him.

"Yes, he did indeed. All luggage accounted for. The club did grumble a little when they saw the size of the trunk, but the know me and won't grumble for long."

"I doubt anyone could grumble at you. Can I give you a drink?"

"Please, that would be delicious. Although I must correct you on the no grumbling front, as I received a telegram just before I went out."

"Oh?"

"From my father. It appears we have crossed in the mail. I sent mine as promised, and his arrived just an hour later."

"Oh dear…"

"Oh dear indeed… take a look…"

TO: CRAWLEY, MR PATRICK, NEW UNIVERSITY CLUB, ST JAMES SQUARE

FROM: CRAWLEY, MR JAMES

UPON RETURN FROM PARIS PLEASE CONTACT IMMEDIATELY STOP NO FURTHER ALLOWANCE UNTIL YOU DO SO STOP

…

"Oh dear … you are in the dog house!"

"It would appear I have reached Papa's limit this time, he's never threatened to cut off the money stream before. He's probably decided to give it a try before I start working and bringing in an honest wage, that argument won't hold much water after September…"

"Well, at least your telegram is en route. What did you say?"

"Hold on, I've got the draft here…"

TO: CRAWLEY, MR JAMES

FROM: CRAWLEY, MR PATRICK

RETURNED FROM PARIS STOP STAYING AT CLUB STOP AUNT VIOLET VERY ILL GOING TO HOSPITAL MONDAY SURGERY NEEDED STOP STAYING IN TOWN TO SUPPORT EDITH WITH ARRANGEMENTS STOP

"Oh well… that should take the wind out of his sails a bit."

"Oh I do hope so … it should be rather difficult to stay cross with an errant son when he's on something of a mission of mercy. The taxi is all arranged for Monday, incidentally, I shall collect you both at half past eight."

"Oh that's a weight off my mind, thank you so much."

"Not a bit of it, glad to help. I say… I didn't know your Papa kept such a glorious chess set here!"

"Oh that…" Edith had waited for him to notice it. "It's Granny's, we unearthed it on our first night here. It was bought for her as a gift when she visited Germany, years ago. She's been teaching me to play."

"Has she by Jove!" Patrick looked gratifyingly impressed. "She taught me the rudiments when I was a boy, you know. I kept it up at Oxford, although I was never as good as some of the bright sparks there. Would you care for a game later?"

Oh would she ever…

"Alright. But you will have to be kind and gentle to me, I am still learning some of the moves."

"It can be your next lesson."

"Dinner is served Milady."

Patrick rose to his feet, jolly and attentive, offering his arm to Edith, who accepted gladly, feeling as though she had been touched by the very edge of happiness.

…

"Goodness you had me on the run in that last game…"

"Oh nonsense, you were letting me win."

"A gentleman never lets anyone win."

"But you do let people give you a close run?"

"Perhaps…"

The evening had been delightful. The dinner delicious, the conversation sparkling, and the chess games a wonderful combination of intellectual stimulus and childish play. Now, drawing the evening to a close with a brandy, the two cousins sat by the fire.

Edith felt wicked. Normally she didn't drink brandy at home, opting for tea instead, but this felt wonderfully grown up and decadent.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"Not much. Church in the morning obviously, but then I'll be getting Granny ready for her trip. What about you?"

"I need to go visit a friend over in Pimlico. Nice chap, Eric Granger, we were at Oxford together."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he's just started with the Civil Service, goodness knows what department, something to do with his uncle I think. Anyway, he's leased a flat over there, and thinks we should shack up together, split the lease to save a bit of cash and have a bit of company for each other."

"Is it far for you to get to work?"

"Oh, nothing at all. It would be perfect in fact. Old Churchill used to live around the corner, and if he could waddle to Westminster from there, I'm sure a healthy young chap like me can manage a walk."

The sound of their laughter rang around the room. Edith was relaxed, for the first time in weeks. She couldn't remember the last time, if ever, when she hadn't felt like getting through a conversation at dinner was a minefield to be picked through. Between Mary's acidic comments, her Grandmother's choice remarks, and the ever brewing battles between Papa's traditionalism and Sybil's growing political awareness of the women's rights movement, Edith retired to bed with a headache and heavy heart more often than she had realised at home. But here, having dinner with such a lovely young man, who had known her all her life and would never use their youth as ammunition to tease her, who laughed at her jokes and said all the nice things to bolster her frayed confidence, she could pretend that Downton and all of its stresses were a world away.

The little carriage clock betrayed them, chiming ten o'clock softly.

"And now…" Patrick drained the last drops from his glass, "I really must go. The club locks up at 10.30pm, there's a charge to the night porter to get in after that."

"Goodness! How strict!"

"It's rather sensible. Encourages all the bright young things to be home and tucked in bed before the rougher elements of the pubs kick everyone out for the evening."

Mrs Bute had Patrick's coat and hat ready for him.

"Thank you Mrs Bute."

"No trouble at all sir."

"How is the Dowager Countess?"

"Feeling a little better sir. She ate more this evening…"

 _That wouldn't be hard_ , thought Edith.

"…but has retired to rest early. Lady Edith, she says she will join you for breakfast, and is intending to go to Church in the morning."

"Marvellous news. Well Edith, I shall see you on Monday morning, but if you need anything before then, please do send a message to the club and I shall come instantly."

"Good night Patrick."

"Good night my dear."

A warm press of the hand, a last smile, and he was gone.

"Shall I lock up now, Milady?"

"Please do Mrs Bute. I'm sorry we've made such a mess for you to clean up."

"Not to worry Milady, we're used to the entertaining life here at Grantham House."

Edith took a step closer, lowering her voice, softly.

"Is she truly feeling better?"

"She is still awake Milady, if you want to look in and say goodnight."

…

"Granny…?"

"Oh my dear, there you are. Come and give me a kiss, have you had a nice evening?"

"Lovely, Patrick was full of news. He sends his love and hopes you are feeling more yourself soon."

"Oh he is such a good boy, never forgets his courtesies to an old lady. I only wish his father would give him a little more credit. What has he been up to?"

Edith relayed all of Patrick's adventures, his trip to Paris, his plan to take lodgings with a friend in Pimlico. All the while she covertly studied the old lady. She did indeed look better. The shadows under her eyes had faded a little, and there was colour in her cheeks. Perhaps she truly had been worn out and a day of rest had been good medicine.

"…so he's arranged a taxi for us, to take us to the hospital and see me safely home afterwards."

"Well, I am glad that there will be someone to take care of you my dear. I shall be in the best hands, it is only fair that you should be too."

Edith was glowing, thought Violet. Her skin was bright and fresh, with colour in her cheeks more becoming than rouge. Her hair, wound into the elegant knot, was far more becoming that the childish and coquettish side curls she wore at Downton. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile came a little more freely.

Violet's suspicions from the past few days were growing stronger. She highly suspected that Edith was in love with Patrick.

After Edith bent to kiss her good night, and Smithers had settled everything for the night, Violet brooded to herself. Some weeks before she had been privy to a conversation with Robert and Cora, where a small scheme had been hatched to persuade all necessary parties that Patrick's marriage to one of the Crawley girls would be the best thing for the future of Downton. Naturally Robert had assumed that the likely candidate would be Mary, being the oldest, and Violet had given full agreement.

After all, Mary was, like Robert, devoted to Downton. She adored the house, loved to ride the estate, and wore poor old Jarvis out with questions about the farms, the management of the land, the tenants. She was determined to know the place inside and out. She rode with the hunt, she sat on committees, she was at every public event and meeting. Downton ran in her blood, and as Countess of Grantham she would fight as hard as Violet had, as hard as Cora still did, for the survival of the place. Also, Mary was intelligent. Her governesses had frequently complained that they could not keep up with her and had eventually turned her loose in the library to direct her own studies. Managing a great house, with all of its servants and lands and responsibilities, would fully occupy her and fill her time, giving her a satisfying and fulfilling life.

But now, Violet was beginning to have second thoughts.

Mary and Patrick challenged each other. If Mary rode well, Patrick was determined to ride better. If Patrick sang solos, Mary would aim for a song with a better range. They played against each other, at croquet, at tennis, at cards and backgammon. Violet had thought initially that this would make them a good match. They would never be bored with each other.

But she had overlooked Edith. They all had, and were wont to do it far more than any of them should feel right in doing.

Would Edith be the better match for Patrick?

Patrick's relationship with his father was fractious, characterised by spats and the occasional fracas. But Edith hated confrontation. It wasn't in her nature at all, she wanted a simpler and easier life. Her personality was softer, sweeter, and there were times with Violet had noticed that Patrick, also, sought out Edith's company. For walks in the garden, visits to the church, meanders around the estate. For the softer and gentler sides of company, without the wild races of competition and victory that so drove his friendship with Mary. Perhaps it was telling that while he and Mary competed in singing solos, Edith's soft alto voice made a pleasant duet beside Patrick's baritone.

Would marrying Edith give him a happier home? A softer, gentler wife to love and support him, rather than push and challenge him? Was Edith up to the challenge of becoming Countess of Grantham and the mistress of Downton Abbey?

Oh, she didn't know. It was all too much to think about and Violet was tired all over again. She would discuss it all with Robert when she got back to Downton, after all this medical nonsense was done and taken care of.

After all, Mary was only twenty, Edith only nineteen, there was no sense in rushing any of this at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN We never hear about James's wife/Patrick's mother, so I've taken the opportunity to flesh that out a bit. We can also assume that Patrick is an only child, there were no family left in that branch after 1912, so that's been factored in here too.**

Sunday passed in a blur for Edith. Her grandmother did indeed make it down to breakfast, and to church, but looked so ill afterwards that Edith was on tenterhooks all day about whether to call for the doctor. Stoic and stubborn, Violet refused to allow it, she was going to hospital in the morning and what was quite soon enough.

By the time she had gone to bed, after supper on a tray in her room, Edith felt so worn out she lay on her bed and wept. A swirling mix of emotions clouded her head. Worry and fear for her grandmother, anxiety about the operation ahead, uncertainty about having to travel to such a big hospital and visit a ward down miles of corridors, loneliness for her family and a special longing for her mother. Yet there were other emotions too … a wish to see Patrick again, a smidgen of even wishing the morning closer to achieve this goal, and a tiny and oh so guilty amount of relish about being free from her duties for a short while, to possibly spend some time with him.

By Monday morning, Edith had slept fitfully, and had dark shadows of her own beneath her eyes. Her face was pale and wan, her lips tight and drawn. An echo of the afflictions Violet had suffered for some weeks.

Breakfast was tense. Violet was too ill to eat much, and Edith too nervous, although Mrs Hopkins had done her best to tempt them with their favourites. Toasted golden muffins, Edith's favourite, were stacked next to a small tureen of porridge, the one thing Lady Grantham could never refuse. But after one golden round was abandoned having been nibbled, and the porridge portion congealed in Violet's bowl, the battle was over and it was a relief when the doorbell rang to announce that the taxi was waiting.

"Good morning ladies. Aunt Violet, it is good to see you, although I wish it were for better reasons."

Patrick's caring hand under her elbow and the brush of his cheek against hers were everything that courtesy and cordiality could wish for.

"Edith, dear, lovely to see you again. Smithers, why don't you let me help you with that dreadfully heavy case..."

"Smithers is going to come with us to see Granny settled in, Patrick…"

"Absolutely, plenty of room…"

In no time, they were all settled and the taxi trundled down the road. Smithers sat up front with the driver, leaving the three Crawleys ensconced in their private bubble.

"Now, you will take care of Edith while I'm indisposed won't you Patrick dear?"

"Aunt V, did you ever doubt me? Although I'm sure that Edith doesn't need a great deal of looking after, she is a most capable young woman."

"Not a bit, but it is important to say these things."

"Don't worry about a thing Granny, you just concentrate on getting your strength back."

"And don't go worrying about coming to all of the visiting times my dear, Smithers will look in during the morning, but I should love to see you in the afternoon."

"Of course Granny, I will bring you all the news and gossip."

In the end, it was all taken care of swiftly and smoothly. Dr Ryder was there to greet them, to shepherd them to the quiet, private room set aside for Violet. There were flowers on the window sill, a jug of fresh water and a glass on the table, pleasant pictures on the walls. If it hadn't been for the medicine cabinet and the tiled floor, one might have taken it for a guest room in a modest house.

Smithers unwillingly surrendered the bag to the matron, who was full of cheerful reassurance. A short conversation about Violet's needs and foibles took place in a discrete corner, allowing Edith and Patrick to take their leave.

"When should I come and visit?"

Dr Ryder consulted his notes.

"Lady Grantham should be able to receive visitors in a couple of days. Today's Monday … hmmm, so that's… hmmm, yes, Wednesday afternoon. Matron, what are the visiting hours for the ward?"

"10 o'clock in the morning until 12 noon and then again from 3 o'clock 'til 5 o'clock. Every day, including Sunday"

"I'll be in to see you at 3 o'clock on Wednesday then Granny."

"How many visitors is she allowed at the bedside Doctor?"

Patrick had more hospital experience than most of the Crawley's after his mother's delicate health.

"Two at a time, sir."

"Well, perhaps if Smithers could look in during the morning, to help Lady Grantham get settled for the day, and then I could escort Lady Edith to the hospital in the afternoon for visiting hours?"

"Oh Patrick…"

"Are you sure dear? I wouldn't want to take up all your precious time…"

"Now what could I possible have to do that could be more important than escorting my charming cousin to see my beloved aunt? No really, I insist. Please."

And so, because of Patrick's kindness, all went smoothly and easily. Smithers wanted to stay a little longer, unwilling to relinquish her charge.

"I'll stay milady," she said softly to Edith. "Get her changed and settled into her gown and wrap. She'll never let the nurses take care of her yet."

"As you wish Smithers. Mr Crawley and I shall take our leave, to let you both get on."

"Goodbye my dears. Do take care."

"And you too Granny. Now be good for the nurses."

"You'd better Aunt V…"

"Go on now, be off with you both."

"You'll let us know how it all goes Doctor?"

"I will telegraph an update once the operation is done and she's in recovery."

…

Stepping out of the front door, the wind whistled through the streets and made Edith shiver. She pulled her coat around her and was grateful that it was not raining. Patrick appeared at her elbow.

"Poor girl, you must be worn out."

"A little. It was … harder than I thought and easier all at the same time."

"Now … can Doctor Patrick make a recommended prescription for Edith?"

He smiled down at her affectionately.

"I put myself entirely in your hands…"

"Good. Off we go then…"

Patrick handed her into the taxi, who had waited for them patiently.

"Where to sir?" Patrick leaned over and whispered a destination. The driver grinned.

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise. Just trust me dear."

Patrick settled beside her, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. Edith decided privately that she would be perfectly happy to just ride in the taxi forever.

…

"Here we are sir…"

"But Patrick, this is…"

"There you go, my good man, keep the change."

Outside the Ritz, Patrick handed Edith out of the car.

"I booked the table, for a second breakfast."

"Do the Ritz serve breakfast this late?"

"They do when you book a private dining room and pay what I'm paying… Now come along, or everything will be getting stale!"

The hotel was luxuriously warm, and the maître d' essayed forward to gather up their coats and paraphernalia. A quick check of the booking register and they were off down the thick carpeted corridor to a small, richly appointed room which positively oozed elegance.

Two chairs sat at a private dining table, laden with fine china and set with the best eggshell cups and saucers with fine glass cups for juice. A silver tray of condiments, fresh sauces, jams and marmalade nestled among the cups. Set to one side was a long table, laden with delights. A coffee pot, a tea pot and choice of teas, a milk jug and a small pot of butter nestled into a bed of ice, a silver pot of sugar lumps.

Shortly after they were settled in, a waiter arrived pushing a tray, from which he unloaded a cascade of goodies. A layered stand bearing miniature pastries and croissants, a warming dish filled with crispy bacon and peppery scrambled eggs, smoked salmon pin wheels with smudges of fresh hollandaise, a profusion of toast racks, a tray of fresh fruits and a dish of creamy yoghurt. A jug of fresh orange juice emerged from beneath the tray.

"Patrick, when on earth did you find the time to arrange this?"

"Yesterday, on the way back from seeing Eric. I thought you might not be able to eat much this morning, and the whole ordeal at St Thomas was bound to be ghastly for everyone."

"You seemed to handle it all very well."

"Ah … something of a sad amount of practice I'm afraid."

James's late wife had been a permanent resident at St Thomas towards the end of her life. Never a strong woman, she had struggled to regain her health after Patrick's birth, and there had been no more children in that branch of the family.

"I'm sorry. Are you sure it won't be too sad for you, coming back there every day? I can go on my own."

"Well the thing is … it might lay away one or two ghosts for me. You know, seeing a family member safely through and out, back into their normal lives."

"I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Neither had I until Papa told me that Aunt V was poorly and then you said she was going to hospital."

The elderly waiter hovered solicitously, brewing a small tea pot, laying warmed plates, filling the little milk jug on the table.

"Thank you, my good man, we can see to ourselves from here."

"Very good sir." He left, the door closing softly behind them.

"They're terribly good here, but getting a little American in their customs. Serving at breakfast, I mean really…"

"Mumma would approve. She doesn't like having to help herself, that's why she has breakfast in bed."

The two of them stood and went to survey the delights. Edith was starving. The adrenaline from this morning had left her, and she had emerged from the hospital feeling weak and slightly sick from its rush. This was the most enormous and delicious treat, nobody in her family except for Aunt Rosamund dined at the Ritz regularly.

Plates loaded once more, they settled for a good gossip.

"So … how is Downton?"

"Much the same."

"Glorious as ever?"

"Mumma is just picking up speed with the flower show and the garden party for the hospital…"

"Do let me have the dates for those. I'd like to make up for at least one, if not both."

"They'd be delighted to have you. Will your father come?"

"Oh I had a letter from him, by morning post. It seems he's going up there today."

"Today? Goodness, whatever for?"

"I have no idea. He wrote that I was a good chap to stay put and see to things with you for Aunt V, to send the club bills to him if I needed to and that he was going to see Cousin Robert, leaving today."

"Mary said the hunt's riding out this week, is he going with them?"

"Perhaps, although he hasn't ridden in ages."

"He should get used to it, he'll be hunt master one day. Maybe he feels like a change."

"Well, whatever the reason, he seems to have forgiven me my little flit away to Paris, which is all to the good. I do hate it so when he growls at me."

"No doubt we'll find out more in time to come. Maybe he's gone to be kind and offer support to Papa?"

"I supposed there might be a first time for everything. How's Sybil doing? Is she being presented this year?"

"Next year, Mumma wants her to be eighteen before she does a season."

"Goodness, whatever will London do when all three of the Crawley girls are seeking out eligible men… cower in awe at the glory of you all…"

Edith giggled.

"How's Mary? No lovelorn swain has persuaded your father to bend his rule for the hand of the eldest daughter yet?"

"Oh there are dozens who try, but Papa is quite firm on waiting until we're twenty one. He says it's because we get our trust funds then and won't have to be completely reliant on husbands for money, but I think he's trying to delay our growing up a bit."

"Oh but in that he's doing so badly, you've all grown up magnificently."

Patrick raised his tea cup in a toast to Edith's blushing smile.


	10. Chapter 10

From: RYDER, DR., ST THOMAS'S HOSPITAL, LONDON

To: CRAWLEY, Lady E, GRANTHAM HOUSE, ST JAMES' SQUARE, LONDON

Monday 29th July, 1911, 3.02pm

OPERATION COMPLETE STOP LADY GRANTHAM IN RECOVERY STOP PLEASE FEEL FREE TO VISIT ON WEDNESDAY AS PLANNED STOP

Wednesday 31st July, 1911

Dear Mumma,

Thank you for your last letter, and I write with good news. Granny is now properly in recovery and is awake, I went to see her this afternoon with Cousin Patrick. She's still very tired, and wasn't able to talk for very long, but she is lucid and making good progress according to the doctor. Waiting for news has been a horrid experience, but Patrick has been so kind and has worked hard to keep my spirits up.

London is quiet at present, although Patrick has been invited to go to a dinner tonight and has asked me to accompany him. His friend, Eric Granger, is related to Lord Gwynedd, he holds a position at the Foreign Office. He's holding a reception for the French Ambassador tomorrow night. Patrick's going to work in the Foreign Office once the summer is over, so it will be good for him to make contacts. I must say I'm rather looking forward to it, it will be nice to get out and see some new faces. It will mean I have plenty of gossip to share with Granny tomorrow afternoon.

Patrick says that Cousin James has been to visit. I do hope everything's alright. How is Sybil getting along with her French? Was the hunt ride out a success? I hope Mary enjoyed herself. Give my love to darling Papa and take a big kiss for yourself,

From your affectionate daughter,

Edith.

Wednesday 31st July, 1911

Patrick,

Cousin Robert gave me the news this morning that Aunt Violet's surgery has been successful. Edith writes that you have been a great support to her, it's gratifying to hear such things. I hope that the regime of hospital visits won't be too difficult for you.

I will be staying at Downton until Friday, but coming straight to London after that. I'll catch the ten o'clock train, and be at the club for three. Please make arrangements to meet me there, we should continue our last conversation in person.

Please do keep me informed,

Yours

James Crawley

Wednesday 31st July, 1911

Darling Edith,

We received your telegram, and were so pleased to hear that Granny has come safely through surgery. I'm sure you will have more news soon, we are longing to hear that she is on the mend. Downton has been busy, the last of the hunt riders left this morning after breakfast, apart from Cousin James of course. He says he's staying for a while, apparently he and Papa have things to discuss regarding the estate.

Mary is well, she was a great favourite at the hunt and at dinner last night, although she hardly seems to notice. I wish she would just pick one and leave the field clear for the rest of us, there will be nobody left to take an interest in me by the time I come out if you and Mary are still taking up all of the attention.

How is Patrick? It sounds like he has been taking care of you, I am so glad you're not alone. Have you had chance to do anything fun? Do write again soon, I miss you so,

Your affectionate sister,

Sybil

"Granny darling!"

"Hello Edith dear… and Patrick too, how lovely…"

"You're out of bed!"

Violet was indeed out of bed, sat in the armchair next to it in her wrapper, her feet in little velvet slippers, with a cashmere shawl around her shoulders. Smithers had been and gone that morning, so her hair was neatly dressed, and there was even a dusting of powder on her dear face.

"I am indeed. And a good thing too. One cannot sit comfortably in bed forever."

"How are you, Granny? The doctor says you're doing well."

"So he does, but I am still most dreadfully stiff. Goodness that anaesthetic was strong, more powerful than one of my mother in law's lectures."

"Any word on when we can swoop in and bear you away home, Aunt V?"

"He thinks another day or two. There was talk about Friday."

"I shall see him, and persuade him to get it all arranged."

"Thank you Patrick, you are such a good boy. Now why don't you run along to find him and give me a few moments gossip with my dear Edith…"

Edith held her grandmother's hand. She so rarely saw her without gloves, it was a strangely intimate and precious thing to do. Her knuckles felt too big for her fingers, the backs of her hands were veiny and wrinkled, and her fingers weighed down beneath heavy rings. It lay dear and protected in her own soft young hands.

"And how are you my dear? Any news from home?"

Edith read aloud Sybil's letter.

"Oh, Sybil is such a good girl to take the time to write."

"She is rather a darling. Sometimes I think she's twice as sweet as the rest of us."

"How was the party at the Embassy?"

"Rather fun, actually. I was so worried that I would feel out of place there, but Patrick introduced me to everyone, and the French Ambassador's wife was really most charming. The music was lovely too."

"And did you get to dance?"

"A few times. Patrick gave me a few, and then his friend Mr Granger led me through a waltz. I am most dreadfully out of practice though, I must brush up before Sybil's season."

Violet smiled and patted Edith's hand.

"Everyone has their strengths my dear, but I know that the Waltz was never really yours."

"Not really. All of that twirling and dipping, my feet get sort of lost."

"So what else have you been up to?"

"I've played the tourist a bit. Thank you for loaning Smithers to me as a chaperone. We've been to the galleries, and to see the Prince Albert memorial, and the recitals at St James' church were beautiful."

Edith was sparkling. Violet realised how much of her shine was dimmed at Downton, where she was overshadowed by her sisters.

"Don't you feel even the littlest bit homesick?"

"Oh … oh that. It's strange, I've not really thought about home that much since I've been here."

"You've taken to city life then?"

"I won't deny, it took a little getting used to, but I think I have rather. The problem with Downton is that it's so isolated if you don't ride well. I know there's the motor and one can always ring for the chauffeur, but I rather like being able to go places in my own time. Being able to do things, spur of the moment. Like yesterday, we were walking back from catching the last post, and we heard the music from the church and decided, just like that, to go over and listen. It was lovely, something I could never have done at home."

"Had you been very unhappy at Downton dear?"

"It's not that I was unhappy. More that I'd never really found out what happy was."

Edith thought back over the last few days. How being treated like an adult, dealing with her responsibilities had brought out the stronger side in her. How being with Patrick as an equal, a grown up rather than being treated like a child, had given her chance to shine.

"I feel like I know now, what happy is. And going back and letting go of it is going to be very hard."

"Are you sure you have to let go of it?"

"I don't see how I can be as happy there as I have been here."

"Well, forever is a long time my dear, let's not worry too much about that yet."

"Aunt V?"

"Patrick, dear boy, is everything settled?"

"Perfectly settled, you're to be discharged on Friday morning at 10 o'clock. Edith and I shall come to collect you and whisk you away home."

"Oh! Oh good, good, it will be lovely to get back to my own space and my own things. Hospitals are full of such, such strange noises and … peculiar smells."

The afternoon visit passed so swiftly, the chatter between the three family members was light, gentle, and her grandmother was on better form that Edith had seen for months. She could not help noticing that Patrick was quiet though. Perhaps he was thinking about his own dear mother. Edith sent one or two small smiles his way, each met with brief rallies, but followed but a slump in his countenance.

Once they had taken their leave, Patrick secured a taxi for her.

"Will you come back to tea?"

"I won't today, if you don't mind dear. I have a few little things to take care of, so I shall send you home in this fair chariot, and see you tomorrow."

Edith was stricken. This was new, Patrick had always escorted her home.

"Is everything alright, Patrick?"

"Perfectly. I just have letters to write, that is all, and they have been put off for some time."

The taxi trundled away, as Patrick waved goodbye and walked in the opposite direction. All at once, the light faded from Edith's world. She was aware of some form of shift, but couldn't put her finger on it. Like her world was tilted, still recognisable but out of focus. Perhaps it was just the hospital, and having to talk with the doctor. Patrick had said he saw this as his mission, to being Granny safely through her ordeal and home again, and now it was over. Yes, that had to be it. She would be good, and patient. He would be back, once he had done his thinking.

-


	11. Chapter 11

**AN/ *NOTE - OCTOBER 2017***

 **Unfortunately this story will not be finished for some time, this is the last published chapter and I don't know when the next will be written let alone posted.**

 **All of my fanfiction writing is currently on hiatus.**

 **I am currently sorting out moving to New Zealand from the UK, hopefully in early 2018. This means I am working full time and running a business in my spare time to raise as much money as possible, and constantly attending job interviews late at night via Skype.**

 **I don't have time to write, which is heartbreaking, but in order to get me, husband and our two cats across the world this is the way it has to be.**

 **As a family, we are running a GoFundMe campaign to help raise the costs needed for us to relocated for the sake of my continued employment and my husband's health. If you want to know more, or are willing to make a tiny donation to our efforts, the link is on my tumblr page.**

Patrick did not see her the following day. A note arrived late Thursday evening. He had to go away, at short notice. The taxi was booked, it would collect them in the morning. A pound note was enclosed for the fare.

Edith tried to think nothing of it. Patrick was about to start work at an important job, it was ridiculous how much she had monopolised his time, and now Granny was out of danger and coming home to convalesce at Grantham House. Why did this feel so odd, so ominous?

Violet was surprised to see Edith and Smithers alone too.

"No Patrick?"

"He sent his apologies Granny, he's had to go away at short notice."

"Something to do with his job?"

"I think so."

"Well well … shall we get on?"

The journey home was uneventful. Much like the next week was uneventful. The days settled into a dull routine, which echoed as a dull ache in Edith's heart. London had lost all of its sparkle without her companion, and which she was relieved to see her Grandmother recover her strength and eat more and more, the joy was tempered.

One week ago, Violet would have put Edith's distemper down to homesickness. The girl bore it well, but her eyes were too bright, her manner too listless, her voice that little bit too sharp and brittle. Violet began to suspect that Edith and Patrick had had words, but nothing she tried would draw Edith out. Eventually, when Edith's hurried departure from the room and redness in her eyes began to correspond with her enquiries about whether there had been word from Patrick, she ceased the questioning.

By the start of the third week in London, Violet was up and dressed. By the end of the third week, she was downstairs every day and staying up to dinner. Edith continued to send cheerful notes to her mother, detailing her grandmother's progress, but there was still no word from Patrick.

On the day that Violet began to think about going home, there arrived a letter from Cora.

"We're coming down to see you darling, we'll be there on Saturday. We're so longing for a sight of you both, even your dear Papa, although he won't say it. Do let Mrs Bute know we'll be on the morning train, and will be there for luncheon at 1pm. Could you also let her know that James and Patrick will be joining us for dinner that night."

Patrick… A shot of joy lifted Edith's heart. Patrick was coming, and reunited with his father. It must be to see Granny again, to reassure themselves that she was well and recovered. Perhaps watching Granny's convalescence would have been too painful for him to bear, too many memories of his own dear Mumma and her illness. But now everything was alright again.

Oh she longed to see him. She longed beyond all else to be in the same room as him again, even if they were surrounded by the entire shooting match of her family.

In all of Edith's joy and the preparations that ensured as Mrs Bute made the house ready, there lurked one little doubt in Edith's heart.

Why hadn't he written to say he was coming?

On Friday, Carson arrived, with Thomas and William in tow. The house felt as though it were waking from slumber. With them came a substantial amount of luggage, including a case sent for Edith.

 _"Thought you would be bored of the same old dresses by now. Hopefully these will make a change._

 _Mary."_

Mary? Since when had Mary ever done anything kind for Edith? She was right, obviously, Edith had felt her wardrobe had grown stale with so few choices available, and it did make sense that Mary would think about clothes more than the others…

But Edith barely cared. They would all be here tomorrow, and that was all that mattered. All of them. Including Patrick. And now she could look fresh and at her best, and hopefully glow for him once more.

"Darling…"

"Mumma!" Edith hurried forward for her kiss, as her mother was unloaded unto the pavement outside Grantham House.

"And darling Papa!"

His kiss was affectionate, but even moreso did Edith cherish the words 'well done, my darling girl, very well done' whispered into her ear.

There was delight all round to see Violet recovered and stronger than she had been in months. Sybil was filled with gossip, longing to relay everything to Edith. They were to share a room for this stay, while Mary had the smaller one to herself.

"She's been maddeningly mysterious," Sybil confided that afternoon. "I think she has a suitor, she keeps half smiling, then catching herself and shaking her head and recomposing herself again, and when I ask what's going on she just says 'nothing'."

"Well, she will be twenty one in six months. Maybe Papa has finally given consent to someone."

"No doubt we'll find out soon. Oh it's so lovely to see you again, and you must have had such adventures… Patrick told us all about your breakfast at the Ritz…"

"Patrick told you…?"

Edith was floored. She dropped the band box she was holding.

"Yes … when he was at Downton, a few weeks ago."

"Wh … when was this?"

"He arrived on the Friday, the day you wrote and said Granny was home from hospital. He telegraphed his father on Thursday to say he was coming, and not to get the train. Didn't he tell you he was coming?"

"N..no… no he didn't."

"I say Edith, you've gone awfully pale, are you alright?"

"Fine! I'm fine. Just tired is all. Just tired. It's been a long two weeks. I'll just sit for a minute."

"I'll fetch you some water…"

"Thank you…"

Edith's head was spinning. Why on earth would Patrick have gone away, gone to Downton, on the very day his Father was due to arrive in London? Why had he gone and not told her? It made no sense at all. No sense at all.

"Here drink this…"

"Thank you Sybil darling."

"Are you sure you don't want me to call Mumma?"

"No … no it's alright. You go down and see everyone. I'll be along in a minute. Don't worry them, it's nothing."

"Well alright … if you're sure."

In the golden afternoon, Edith sat alone, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. A feeling of dreadful foreboding washed through her, and she shivered, ice cold. What was going on?

…

That evening, the family gathered, and Violet was naturally the centre of attention, although she was determined to share the limelight with Edith.

"She's been such a treasure, you know I'm sure I would not have coped so well, nor recovered so splendidly without all of her help and support."

"Oh Darling, you've made us all so proud."

"Hear, hear, well done Edith."

But Edith felt as though she were miles away, up among the new electric lights on the ceiling, staring down at the whole gathering from miles away. She felt curiously detatched from her body. She nodded, smiled, made all the right noises, but none of this felt real. Nothing had felt real since Sybil had told her that Patrick had been at Downton.

At two minutes to eight, the taxi drew up outside, unloading James and Patrick onto the pavement. Carson announced them:

"Mr James Crawley and Mr Patrick Crawley."

Edith turned, longing for a glimpse of him and dreading it all at the same time.

He was smiling, he was calm, he greeted Robert and Cora, nodded his hellos to all of them.

But somehow, distinctly, she felt that something had changed. She was no longer dear Edith, she was one of the Crawley cousins again. There would be no cosy brandy, no tete a tetes by the fire, or companionable games of chess. How could she reignite that feeling once again?

"Dinner is served, Milady."

"Alright everyone, let's go in."

…

The wine tasted acidic, the soup may as well have been water, the beef had all the consistency of cardboard to Edith. She ate little, drank more than usual, and said nothing. Sat between her mother and Sybil, she could not catch Patrick's eye. He was sat further down the table, between Robert and Mary.

Was he avoiding looking at her? Edith could not tell.

Towards the end of dinner, Robert stood, tinkling his fork against his glass.

"I have a few words to say, if you will all let me."

Edith felt cold in the pit of her stomach. A nameless fear lurked in the back of her mind, intangible, bitter as frost.

"…so lovely to have the whole family gathered together again, all of the Crawleys around one table. We may have been separated by ill health, duty and misfortune, but now we are united as we should always be. I'd like to make a private little announcement, but just within the family for now…"

Robert paused, took a sip from his glass, seemed as if he would falter in his charge.

"From tonight, this family will be closer than ever before. It will ensure the survival of the family name, the estate, and the home we all know and love, that of Downton Abbey. Our succession is secure in the hands of James and Patrick, who have known it all their lives and to whom we entrust it's care and survival after my time is done. But I am now delighted to announce…"

Edith suddenly realised what was coming.

There was not a mortal thing she could do to stop it.

Or avoid it.

She willed herself not to faint.

"…that the estate's well being will also rest in the hands of our very own Mary, who is engaged…"

 _Engaged…_

"to be married…"

 _Marry…_

"Patrick Crawley."

Applause broke out around the table. Edith felt her sister kick her gently under the table. She joined in, mechanically. Papa was still talking, about something to do with Mary not being twenty one, and business in New York, and waiting for Patrick to return before a newspaper announcement, but Edith couldn't take it in. It was a relief when Mumma said it was time for the ladies to go through, so that she could get up from the table and leave…

"Edith, are you sure you're alright…"

Here was the way out. From not having to see Mary, not having to talk to Patrick, not having to look Papa in the face and pretend to be happy with this news, which would secure Downton forever and leave Edith in the shattered fragments of her own heart.

"Do you know, darling, I'm not really … I feel a little sick and dizzy … could you tell Mumma that you've gone up?"

"Do you want me to come with you…"

"No. No, I'll be alright. I'll just go and lie down quietly for a while."

Edith's heart was heavy, her hand trembled as she held the candle. Her lungs ached with trying not to cry, and a simultaneous longing for relief. In the quiet solitude of her room, she was finally able to let her face crumble.

She sat on her bed, shaking, wishing she could scream and cry.

"You didn't think this could end any other way, did you?"

Mary's voice sent a jolt through Edith. She spun around, to see her standing at the door, looking cool and immaculate in her dress. In that moment she felt such a hatred for Mary that it shocked her to her core. She had disliked her previously, but never hated her until this moment. The violence of the emotion overwhelmed her.

"I can't believe it came as a surprise."

"Well it was. A huge one. Why didn't you say anything?"

"What could I have said?"

Edith's face worked, but her words failed her.

"It's not for me, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't love me. It's not for me. It's for the estate."

"But wh…"

"He has to marry someone who loves Downton. Someone who can make a life there, who loves it there. Someone who will never leave, who will always be there for it. Who will ride out with the hunt, manage the hospital, tend to it, take interest in the estate, love it … like a child. Like Papa does."

"And that's you?"

"Well, it's not you."

"How would you know?"

"Apparently you could never be as happy there as you have been here. You hate the isolation of the place, you long to be here in London, at the centre of everything, able to do whatever you want…"

Edith's own words echoed around her head. Where had she said that…? At the hospital, to Granny… When Patrick had been… The truth registered on her face. She looked up at Mary.

"You know Edith, you might think I'm your worst enemy, and there will be days when I'm on that list, but your own worst enemy is definitely yourself. If this is how you treat your chances at happiness, you don't stand much chance."

Mary turned and walked away.

Edith fell to the ground, crumpled. She stuffed a corner of the coverlet into her mouth to keep from screaming. Tears poured down her face, hot and wet and stinging with fury, pain and disappointment. With aching longing, and desperate fear. Tomorrow she would find calm reflection. Tomorrow she might find it in her heart to be glad that Patrick was to be her brother, to always be part of her family, that Downton would remain truly in the family forever and that no stranger would ever take him away.

But here in this moment, alone in the darkness of a house where she had so recently been so happy, Edith wept her eyes sore.


End file.
